


Suspend

by eloquated



Series: The Weight of Snow [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Endings/Death, Fear, Feelings, Gen, Ice Skating, Introspection, Light Angst, YOIRarePair2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated
Summary: Victor is thirteen, and his rinkmate will never skate again.For the first time, he has to face the idea of a life without the ice.
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov & Georgi Popovich
Series: The Weight of Snow [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020247
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	Suspend

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I wanted to take a quick second to thank all the wonderful people who've taken a few minutes of their time to leave comments on these additional Weight of Snow stories. You're so incredibly supportive, and it means the world to me!
> 
> This takes place near the end of chapter 3, and is for the YOI Rare Pair Week, the fill 'Gifts/Surprise'.

Victor has been scared before, but it's never felt like this.

Sometimes it feels like the ice is the only thing that makes sense in his life. He's not brilliant, and he's not erudite, witty, the sort of person that charms easily. Skating is the only thing he's ever been really good at.

From the inside, the rink doesn't look as big as it once had; diminished by time and familiarity, and comparison to the sprawling professional arenas he's seen. He's thirteen and the world is slowly starting to open to him, and it's filled with things his ten-year-old imagination couldn't fathom.

Not in real life, anyway.

But what the rink lacks in size it compensates for with activity. There are always people coming and going; from the busy classes of novices in their hard-sided plastic skates, all nerves and puffy coats, to the seniors who glide across the ice like it's a part of them.

Maybe it is. Sometimes it feels like he's more at home in his skates than he is on his own feet.

There are a few chairs along the boards, mostly places for parents to watch their young children skating. At least, Victor supposes that's why they're there-- mostly they seem to be occupied by people pulling on their skate guards, or wiping the thin, wet snow from their blades.

Sometimes a parent lingers, watching; and Victor remembers being small, and Irina doing her homework while she waited for him. 

He's been in St. Petersburg for three years, and he's not homesick, not anymore. But there are days when his life in Siberia feels like it belonged to someone else.

Victor and Georgi are the only juniors training under Yakov, and they feel trapped in the halfway in-between. They're not old enough, their bones and muscles are still growing, lengthening, and they're ungainly at this age. 

They're creatures of skin and knobbly knees and elbows, and Lilia says it's like trying to teach baby deer to dance. 

Sometimes she even smiles, just a little, when she says it.

When she's sure that Victor and Georgi aren't looking. 

But even she doesn't notice all their sidelong glances, drinking in the way she moves, that lissome grace, with barely disguised envy.

Victor can't remember the last time he saw her smile.

Dance classes have been quiet lately, just work. Repetition. And Victor knows that Lilia's lost students before, but it can't be easy.

Especially not like this.

The rink seems strange and empty without Sasha, and Victor feels his loss like a missing tooth. It's not vital, and he can survive without it; but it's gone, and it hurts, and nothing feels quite right anymore. He prods at it compulsively, remembering where Sasha would stand, and trying to imagine what he would say.

It aches, but he can't help himself.

He's not there to tell Victor that it's going to be alright when he stumbles, falling out of yet another fumbling attempt at a spin. There's no warm, silent hand on his shoulder, no wordless empathy because Sasha had been there once, too.

And Victor tries not to think about it, but the question burns in the back of his mind: 

What happens when all this is over?

Victor's imagined his retirement before. He's young but he's not naive enough to think that he'll be doing this forever. His body won't hold up to it, and he only has a few years to perfect everything before his body starts to slow and settle in place.

His long bones will calcify, fusing, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. He just has to use the time he has, to stay flexible, and find his balance... New balance...

Constantly shifting balance, as he gets taller.

Victor pictures himself at the end of a long career, with a crowd of fans. He wants the medals, and his name on the Olympic program, and he wants to be as good as Sasha. 

Better.

Best

And maybe he'll earn a world record; a legacy to leave behind when he's moved on to other things. 

But he knows it's more than just hard work. There's skill, and luck, and he can't control every tiny variable.

He's feared a bad landing. They all do. 

You can't throw yourself in the air over and over, crashing into the ice and covering yourself with bruises, without wondering if next time will be the last. It's an occupational hazard, the cost of doing business, and they all know it.

Even if they don't want to accept it.

But Sasha wasn't a victim of flawed ice, or a clumsy landing, and that makes it harder for Victor to stomach. 

There was just a man, his blood running with Moskovskaya, his car careening through the quiet intersection.

And there was nothing anyone could have done. Sasha's alive, they both are, but Victor's seen him skate, he knows what he's lost, and wonders if this new life could be called living.

"I'd rather die." 

Georgi looks up from the other side of the change room, his hair still wet from the shower. They practically live on top of each other, sharing the ice, sharing their room, their meals, their classes. They do everything together, and he doesn't look as surprised as Victor thought he might.

He understands, even if he doesn't agree.

"I wouldn't let you."

Victor isn't sure he would give him a chance, but he likes the idea that Georgi wouldn't simply let him go. He's never had a best friend before, not like this; and sometimes Georgi feels more like a brother... But Victor's never said it aloud because it sounds embarrassingly girly in his head.

It's true, but what if Georgi doesn't feel the same way?

He'll tell him, someday.

Georgi waits as he dresses, and tries to do something with his hair. It's a nightmare, half grown out and not as long as he wants it. It's taking forever, and sometimes Victor wants to chop it all off, just for the spite of it.

He thinks Georgi will help him, if he ever decides to do it. 

If only to stop him from doing it himself, and mangling it further.

There's no music playing in the arena when they leave the change room, but Victor can see the other Viktor's telltale red jacket as he moves across the ice. 

It isn't until he looks passed him that he sees Sasha, standing at the boards with that soft smile that always promised better things. 

For an instant, Victor wants to run over to him--it's a frantic need, a fluttering thing behind his ribs, because he needs to know that Sasha is alright. He wants to know why he's here, and how he can stand to look at all he's lost. 

Maybe if Victor can understand, the fear that's been twisting in his guts will stop.

Instead, he's the one who stops.

Watches.

From the change room doors, Victor and Georgi see the way the other Viktor-- the taller, older Viktor, who's never had time for the juniors-- skates over to the boards.

He sees the way he takes Sasha by the waist, loose and comfortable, like they've done this a million times before. 

Maybe not like this, but he doesn't look at Sasha like he's broken. And Victor's never seen that soft expression on Viktor's face before.

He sees the moment Sasha's fear gives way, yielding in the face of something greater. Something that looks like hope.

He'll never skate again, not like he used to. Whatever his future holds, it won't be the way he'd planned it. 

But Viktor's strong arms steady him as he steps out onto the ice, one skate boot left loose, the laces tucked inside, to accommodate his new prosthetic. Sasha is ungainly on the ice, unbalanced, the two of them stumbling along with the boards close to their side.

Just in case.

And Viktor isn't letting him fall.

It's an ending, there's no denying that. But when Sasha's eyes meet his across the rink, seeing Victor and Georgi lingering by the doors, unabashedly watching--

He smiles. 

Victor holds Georgi's hand as they leave the rink that evening, and checks the street twice, both ways, just to be sure it's safe. And if Georgi minds, he doesn't say anything, because it's comforting, and they both need it.

They don't talk about what they saw, or about what Victor had said. 

The ending had come for Sasha too early, rushing ahead to meet him. But it isn't coming for them, not yet. They still have time.

And they intend to use every moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me just about everyone as Eloquated, or just pop into the comments for chat about all things Victurio and YOI! ❤️


End file.
